Barrett, shaking off the fog of his earlier thoughts, turned his gaze toward Teach. There was something deeply unsettling about this man—how much he knew, how calmly he spoke about legends and monsters.
Barrett had to admit, this time, he owed Teach a favor.
"You're Teach, right? You've said a lot," Barrett said, cracking his neck. "So, what do you want?"
Teach grinned, his teeth flashing beneath his wild beard. "Barrett, I want you to join my pirate crew."
Barrett froze for a heartbeat, caught completely off guard.
This man—who had been crushed beneath his fists not long ago—now dared to invite him into his crew?
His expression darkened. He had sensed the weakness of Teach's subordinates earlier. They were far from elite. To invite him, Douglas Barrett, into such a crew? It was laughable.
"Are you joking?" Barrett's voice dropped low, almost a growl.
Teach merely laughed. "Zehahahaha! So that's a no. I didn't expect you to agree anyway."
His laughter was loud and genuine, carrying no hint of mockery. It was the laugh of a man who believed in something far beyond the present. Barrett's brow twitched. He realized Teach had meant it seriously—this wasn't arrogance or jest.
"Let's make a promise," Teach said as he stood, dusting himself off. "Next time we meet, we fight again. I'll be stronger then. Don't go getting yourself thrown into Impel Down like Redfield."
He faced Barrett, the gleam in his eyes fierce and alive. "I'll build a pirate crew stronger than any before it. Stronger than Roger's. Stronger than Whitebeard's. Just wait and see, Barrett!"
He spread his arms wide, voice rising to a roar that echoed across the shore. His laughter rolled like thunder—"Zehahahahaha!"—and with every word, Barrett felt it: the man's aura swelling, his Conqueror's Haki flaring, deepening.
It wasn't bluster. Teach's conviction was real.
Barrett watched him silently, his usual stoicism giving way to a faint smirk. Maybe this lunatic could really make something happen.
"Then I'll wait," Barrett said finally. "Don't die before then, Teach."
"Zehahaha! I won't die, not before I've surpassed them all!" Teach turned his back, laughing as he strode into the forest, his shadow fading into the trees.
Barrett watched until the sound of that mad laughter disappeared. "Such ambition," he murmured. "Don't die too soon."
He knew it wasn't just empty talk. To build a pirate crew greater than Roger's, Teach would need to be a man beyond reason and beyond death itself.
Still, Barrett felt a spark of something long buried: excitement. For the first time in years, the sea felt alive again.
But his purpose remained unchanged, to surpass Roger, no matter the cost.
By the time Teach reached the shore, his ship awaited him. His crew, drenched in sweat from training, perked up at his return.
Teach's grin widened. "Zehahahaha! Raise the sails! We're leaving this island!"
"Oh! Let's go!" his crew shouted in unison, spirits high.
Teach walked to the bow, the salty breeze ruffling his black coat. "The next island awaits. Our journey begins anew!"
As the sails unfurled and the ship cut through the waves, Teach descended into the training room below deck. Though his wounds hadn't completely healed, rest was never part of his creed.
"Captain never stops," Gar muttered, gripping the helm.
Wallace chuckled. "That's why he's different."
The ship slipped away from the Island, leaving behind the faint sound of laughter and the trail of ambition echoing in the sea breeze.
On the other side of that island, Barrett watched the departing ship, a grin tugging at his lips. He turned and strode toward the dock, where a steel-gray submarine awaited.
As he approached, the surface rippled like liquid metal, forming an opening. Barrett leaped in, landing with a heavy thud. The hull sealed instantly behind him.
Moments later, the submarine's engines hummed to life. With a deep rumble, it submerged and vanished into the dark blue depths.
Grape Island—last stop before Reverse Mountain.
Nestled in the first half of the Grand Line, it was one of seven routes converging toward the Red Line. In the age of pirates, it was infamous for one thing: bounty hunters.
Just as Whiskey Peak in another route served as a nest for hunters, Grape Island thrived on blood, wine, and profit. New pirates from the Four Seas often landed here, only to be snatched up and sold to the Marines before they could make a name for themselves.
Bounty hunters had existed since the age of kingdoms, rogues without nations, bound only by coin. In the modern era, some had formed small guilds or syndicates, though unity was foreign to their kind.
The best among them could hunt pirates worth over a billion. But such hunts were rare; the risk outweighed the reward, and few dared to cross monsters of that level.
Grape Island belonged to the Grape Kingdom, a small but wealthy nation bathed in sunlight and overflowing with vineyards. Its wines were its lifeblood—exported across the world, even to the Holy Land of Mariejois as part of its Heavenly Tribute.
Where there was wine, there were pirates. And where there were pirates, there were bounty hunters.
But with a Marine branch stationed nearby, the island remained relatively peaceful. Any large-scale battle drew immediate response.
The kingdom's safety was guaranteed not by its soldiers, but by its wine, the pride of the Celestial Dragons themselves.
Teach and his crew strolled down the bustling main street. The air was thick with the aroma of fermented grapes and oak barrels. The midday sun burned hot, and shirtless bounty hunters leaned against tavern doors, their laughter mingling with the clinking of bottles.
Among them, Teach—still wrapped in his black coat—stood out like a dark tower.
A sharp BANG! rang out from a side street.
Teach turned his head slightly. The locals barely flinched. To them, gunshots were as ordinary as footsteps. A few curious bystanders drifted toward the noise, eager to see a bounty claimed.
Teach chuckled. "You guys go have a look around. We'll meet later."
He waved off his crew. Pito followed him closely, while Gar and Wallace split off in different directions. Augur, drawn by the gunfire, grinned and strode toward the commotion.
Each carried their own small fortune—millions in Belly from their past victories.
Wallace managed Teach's reserves, nearly two hundred million Belly. Baccarat, of course, held the ship's treasury. A woman blessed by the Lucky-Lucky Fruit was never short on money.
Her eyes sparkled as she spotted a casino at the end of the street.
"Finally, some fun," she murmured, strolling toward it. She hadn't gambled in weeks, and the thrill called to her. She also needed the practice—her power was potent, but underdeveloped.
Teach trusted her completely. He'd already scanned the island; there were no real threats here.
Still, he remembered all too well the chaos she could cause.
Baccarat's power was intangible—luck itself. No Armament Haki could block it. In training, she'd once turned Teach's fortune so foul that he fell into the sea… right into a swarm of Sea Kings. Over twenty of them.
Only his Conqueror's Haki had saved them all.
Teach had laughed afterward but deep down, he knew how terrifying her fruit could become. If she ever learned to manipulate luck from a distance, she would be a walking calamity.
The Calamity Fruit. That's what it truly was.
As Teach wandered deeper into the streets, the scent of aged wine filled his lungs.
He smiled to himself. "Since I'm here, I should sample the kingdom's best. Maybe I'll take a bottle back for Kakarot."
Kakarot—the ape-man he had discovered and trained—was growing fast. In just two years, he'd become a towering giant nearly seven meters tall.
His body, now stronger than iron, had learned Soru, Geppo, and Shigan under Teach's guidance. Watching that enormous body move through the air was both comical and awe-inspiring.
Teach had left him on Fruit Island with stacks of books and barrels of wine. Each time Teach visited, he brought new vintages—and in return, Kakarot had learned to create wine from thin air.
He no longer needed ingredients, only water and memory. The more he learned, the stronger his Devil Fruit power grew.
Now, Kakarot stood as both a brewer and a weapon—a strange, loyal creature whose laughter echoed Teach's own.
The memory made Teach's grin widen.
As he walked beneath banners of grapes and wine bottles, the sound of the sea in the distance, one thought pulsed in his mind like a beating drum—
This is only the beginning.